


Grouchings of a Grognard G-Man

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-30
Updated: 2002-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Agents Mulder and Krycek go on a stakeout.





	Grouchings of a Grognard G-Man

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Grouchings of a Grognard G-Man

## Grouchings of a Grognard G-Man

#### by Marcia Elena

Title: Grouchings of a Grognard G-man  
Author: Marcia Elena  
Email:   
Keywords: M/K  
Spoilers: None  
Rating: R for language and implied m/m interaction  
Summary: Agents Mulder and Krycek go on a stakeout. Written for the 6th Lyric Wheel, the 'Dictionary Wheel', November 2001  
Disclaimer: Sniff! They don't belong to me, sniff! They're CC's, and 1013's, and Fox's...but if you ask me, they belong solely to each other...  
Author's notes: Thanks to Sue for the word, which can be found at the end. It was more than a challenge than I thought it'd be. 

This piece is kind of an experiment...guess that makes you my (un)willing subject! Waaahaaaahaa!!! 

* * *

Grouchings of a Grognard G-Man  
by Marcia Elena 

Shuffle of feet by the door, followed by heavy trudging. 

"Hey Mulder, good morning. There's fresh coffee if you want." 

Grumble. 

"What? Didn't catch that." 

Grumble again, louder. 

"Okay, if that's how you wanna play." 

"I'm not playing here, Krycek. And don't start with me, because I'm not in the mood." 

Low chuckle. "Really? I thought you were always in the mood." 

Silence. 

Soft footsteps. Swish of fabric against fabric. "You're still upset about last night? I told you , I couldn't get away from that meeting. But I promise to make it up to you tonight." 

More silence. 

Deep breath. "C'mon, Mulder, don't be like this." Peck. 

"I'll be however the hell I want! And don't touch me like this when we're in the office. Someone might come in." 

"Like who? You know damn well nobody ever comes down here." 

"Skinner does." 

"Not today. He's already given us our new assignment." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Wanted to cheer you up first." 

"That bad?" 

Pause. 

"Where is it?" 

"On your desk." 

Swish of clothes, footsteps. Rustle of paper. "A stakeout?!?" 

"Yep." 

"On a fucking condemned building?" 

"Yep." 

"Stop yepping at me." 

"Lighten up, Mulder, geez." 

"Shut up, Krycek. It's gonna be enough of a long, slow day even without your attitude." 

"Long and slow can be good." 

"I said shut up." 

"Killjoy." 

Pointed silence. 

"Guess you're right." Heavy sigh. "It _is_ going to be a long, slow day." 

* * *

Creaking of door. Cautious pair of footfalls. Settling down of objects. Scraping of chairs. 

"This place is disgusting." 

"You think so? It kind of reminds me of your apartment." 

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" 

"Only five hundred times." Pause. "Look, Mulder, you have to relax a little. We're spending the next six hours here. It won't do to be such a grump." 

"Don't give me any reasons to complain, then." 

Puffing of air. 

Silence. 

Silence. 

"Where did you put the thermos?" 

"Over there." 

Dragging steps. Sloshing of liquid. Swallow. "This coffee is stale." 

"Don't drink it, then." 

"I need to drink something." 

"We're not in the desert here. You won't die of dehydration." 

"Maybe you should quit the FBI for a career in comedy." Pause. "You didn't bring anything else?" 

Sigh. "There's ice-tea in the lunch bags." 

"Then why didn't you say so in the first place?" 

"It's not lunchtime yet." 

"Thank you for that astounding revelation." 

Silence. 

Crackle. Unscrewing. Gurgle. "It's lukewarm." 

"So?" 

"So ice-tea is supposed to be cold." 

"Sure. If you keep it in an ice-box." 

"Oh, stop. You're making me laugh too hard. The crooks might hear us." 

"Shut up, Mulder." 

"I thought that was my line." 

Glowering silence. 

Light steps. Chattering of wood. 

Ticking of clock. 

* * *

"What time is it?" 

"Almost the same as one minute ago." 

"Crap." 

"We only have thirty minutes to go." 

"That's an eternity, as far as I'm concerned. We've been holed up in here for hours now and there hasn't been any suspect movement at all. I don't think I can take this any longer." 

"It would've helped if you'd been a little less hostile. A bit of conversation could've been nice. Not to mention that you haven't stopped complaining since this morning." 

"Shut up." 

"See what I mean?" 

"Fuck you." 

"I thought you'd never ask." 

"Fuck. You." 

"How do you want me?" 

"With your mouth shut." 

"Oh, no. You like it when I'm loud." 

"I'm warning you, Krycek." 

"Call me Alex. You haven't said my name all day." 

"No." 

"Yes. Go ahead. Say my name. You know how much I love to hear you say it." 

"You're a pain." 

"I can be a pleasure, too." One, two, three steps. Whisper of skin against fabric. "Let me show it to you." 

Brief scuffle. "Get away, Alex." 

"Ah, yes...thank you." Kissing. 

"Don't do this." 

"Why not? Give me one good reason." More kissing. 

"I don't want to." 

"Liar." Long smooch. "You're as hard as I am." 

"That's just involuntary reflex." 

"Uh-huh. Sure, baby, whatever you wanna call it." 

"Don't call me baby." 

"Then stop whining." Unzipping. 

"What are you doing?" 

"What does it look like?" More unzipping. 

"We can't do this here!" 

"Says who?" 

"Says me. This place is dirty." 

"So is your mind." Smacking. "Never stopped you before." 

Hiss. "Alex, please..." 

"I want you, Mulder. I want you so bad." Scattering of buttons on the floor. "I can't wait any longer. You've been driving me crazy all day." 

"In more ways than one, I gather." 

"Yes." Ripping of cloth. "You owe me." 

"You owe me first, remember?" Slide of skin on skin. "For last night." 

Growl. "Let me give it to you, then." Sucking. "Hard. Sweet. Whatever you want." 

"Both, Alex." Groan. "Both." 

Gasps. Pant. Heave. Moans. 

"Oh, shit!" 

"Whassamadder?" 

"The h-hideout..." Labored breathing. "They're leaving the hideout." 

"Fuck'em." 

"Alex..." 

"Fuck'em. We're not stopping now." 

"But-" 

Kissing. Wet and noisy and long. "Fuck them." 

"No." Pause. "I'd rather fuck you, if you don't mind." 

Laughter. Licking. "Mmm, you're such a romantic, Mulder." 

"That's how you like it, slut." 

"Bitch." 

Chortle. "C'mere." Smooch. "When we're done here, I'm taking you home with me and fucking you into the mattress until your eyes roll back or the springs give, whichever comes first." 

"Ooh...promises, promises." 

"Oh no, Alex." Soft murmur. "It's much more than just a promise, I assure you." 

"Mulder?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Shut up." 

"Make me." 

Snarl. "Delighted to." 

Kiss. 

**END**

* * *

GROGNARD: a person that complains a lot. 

Postscript: I know the X-Files division was closed during Krycek's tenure at the FBI. But I was thinking that maybe Mulder and him would sneak down there sometimes for some privacy. Makes up for some nice possibilities. ;-) 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Marcia Elena 


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